The Trouble with Control, The New York Review of Books on Health Care Reform, and an Outlet for My Rage

Like just about anything you’ll find in The New York Review of Books, <a href="“>this article on congressional attempts at health care startled me with with its insightful analysis of our nation’s legislative climate. In fact, it’s so insightful that the author agrees with me, arguing that the Democrats should not have taken Scott Brown’s election in Massachusetts (Ha! Spelled that correctly on the second try!) as a thumbs-down vote on our pathetic, mired-down health care bill.

Now. I’ve been wrestling in this space with the issue of control, asking again and again whether I can do anything to ameliorate my moods. It came to me that this is bound to be demoralizing: If I can control my moods, then it’s my fault that I’m not well; if I can’t, then my situation is hopeless. Neither conclusion is particularly alluring, so I tend to tell myself that I can control them, but I haven’t figured out how yet. Of course, this means failing again and again at all sorts of self-improvement initiatives, which is demoralizing in itself. To which I say, Grumble!

A month or two ago, I saw a flasher standing in the parking lot behind my condo, and I lamely resolved to give him the rough side of my tongue if I saw him again. Imagine my delight when I spotted him two days ago, this time shining a flashlight down on his penis. I threw a U-turn, rolled down my window, and barked out a couple of profanity-laden threats. He shot me an incredulous look and loped off. My only regret is that my prevailing mood has changed, and I may not have summoned the proper air of psychotic rage. But that incident made me smile for a couple of hours.

Revolt and Resignation

In his collection of essays On Aging, Holocaust survivor Jean Amery said that one must meet the phenomenon of aging -- inevitable yet terrifying -- with both revolt and resignation. So it is with mental illness. To deny that I will always be manic-depressive would be true madness; at the same time, I must revolt against my condition, rejecting the idea that it defines and limits me.